


Nothing At All

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't want to talk," Sam tells the silent shape behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing At All

Sam can feel the weight on the other side of the bed. Weight that shouldn't be there. It's not even a surprise any more, like Lucifer has hollowed out his own space in Sam's dreams.

But he's exhausted and this feels like the first real sleep he's had for longer than he can remember.

They're on a hunt that's already gone on too long; already snapping at each other, second guessing themselves, missing things. Him and Dean have been sleeping, and eating in the car for days, chasing some unnamed demon that's been stealing children town by town. Castiel's fairly sure it's sacrificing them as it goes, working its way up to something big. Dean's desperate to find it, strung tight and restless, living off of his own determined fury, his own adrenaline.

Sam just needs to be alone in his own head. He's too tired to put up walls, there isn't enough of him left. He feels thin, worn down until he almost swears he's see-through.

"I don't want to talk," Sam tells the silent shape behind him, flat, tired, it's no use pushing, no use raging.

"We don't have to talk, Sam," Lucifer's voice is quiet, close. "I know you're tired. I know today was hard for you,"

Sam swallows and doesn't say anything at all, because every day is hard. Every day is hard and he doesn't get to pack it away and sleep, not any more.

He stiffens under the gentle pressure of a large, warm hand against his back, stares at the flat bare space on the wall and listens to the bed make soft noises under Lucifer's body.

"You could ask me for help, Sam. You could ask me how to find what you're hunting."

It feels like a stab of mockery because of course he knows. Lucifer knows everything. But Sam doesn't want to pay for his help. Sam can't afford to pay for his help, he thinks he'd rather hate himself than do that.

"Your help doesn't come for free," Sam reminds him, tight and brittle. "And I won't say yes."

"You don't have to say yes," Lucifer says quietly, smoothly. "I'll tell you what you want to know. I'll tell you how to find what you looking for."

His hand moves on Sam's back, palm sliding down, fingers curling on the muscle of his waist and Sam tenses under it. He breathes in and tries to pull away from the touch but Lucifer's fingers tighten, hand sliding round to flatten against his stomach. It's an uncomfortably intimate sensation and the suggestion of exactly what he wants, of what Sam's been afraid of him wanting, is too obvious to deny any more.

He fists his hand in the sheet, a breath away from pulling away, from wrenching himself out of the bed and away from Lucifer's too warm hands.

"I'll give you what you need," Lucifer says quietly.

Sam tenses under his touch. But he knows - knows far too well - that Lucifer will tell him. He'll tell him where to go and they'll find this thing and kill it before it kills again. Because Sam knows it costs him nothing, but it will cost Sam -

He swallows and stares at the wall. He thinks of nothing at all while Lucifer's fingers slip down into his boxer shorts.

"Don't say no, don't say stop, and I'll tell you where to find your demon."

  



End file.
